New-York Tribune, 7 May, 1899, Illustrated Supplement

JOACHIM’S JUBILEE.

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HOW THE SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF

THE GREAT VIOLINIST’S FIRST AP-

PEARANCE WAS CELEBRATED

IN BERLIN.

Berlin, April 28.

The great hall of the Philharmonie was filled to overflowing on Saturday night, April 23, for the celebration of the jubilee of Joseph Joachim, who sixty years ago, a little boy, eight years old, made his first public appearance as a virtuoso in Budapest, and began the career which has made him the master violinist of Germany, and in the opinion of many of the whole world. Bach, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and the entire “noble army” of musicians, who as cameo reliefs on the pale green wall keep watch over the splendid hall, looked down on one of the most brilliant assemblies of famous men and women ever gathered together in Berlin to honor a man great “by the grace of God.” Musicians, artists, men of letters and learning, high officers and Ministers of State, with countless orders gleaming on their breasts, crowded the parquet, the boxes and the gallery to bear witness to the esteem in which they held Germany’s “grand old man.”

He sat there among them in the centre of the hall, in his big chair of honor, decorated with gorgeous azaleas, smiling on them all, pleased as a child and modest as only a great man can be. Only a few minutes before every one of those thousands of men and women, from the highest dignitary to the humblest music student at the far corners of the hall, had risen and cheered at his entrance, while the trumpets of three of the finest regiments in Berlin sounded a fanfare of welcome. How simple he was, as he came in, accompanied by a few devoted men, stopping to shake hands with a friend in the box above him, or laying his hand affectionately on the shoulder of an old colleague as he passed him on his way down the aisle! The shouts of the people and the blare of the trumpets did not for one moment distract his attention from the familiar faces that beamed on him from all sides.

Indeed, they were all familiar faces. Robert von Mendelssohn, the banker and ‘cellist, descendant of the great Felix, and Joachim’s friend for many years, sat in the chair to his right. Across the passage to his left was the beloved old professor, Hermann Grimm, who had composed the prologue for the occasion, and coming toward him to welcome him was his friend and neighbor, Herr von Keudell. In the orchestra, every member of which was standing and waving his or her handkerchief, stood Wirth and Hausmann, Halir, and Moser and Markees, the two capable instigators and managers of the festival, and, besides these, old friends and pupils from all over the world, gray-haired men, middle-aged men, boys and girls, and no one could make noise enough. When the trumpets had ceased and the vast audience was seated, Fraulein Poppe, of the Royal Theatre, came to the front of the stage and recited the anniversary poem which Professor Grimm had written. It was a touching tribute, which grew in eloquence and feeling up to the last words, which were addressed to the orchestra, and as one exquisite mellow voice 144 stringed instruments responded with the opening strains of the overture to Weber’s “Euryanthe.” If ever an orchestra was inspired, that one was! No one who was not there can realize how perfectly the love and devotion to Joachim which every performer felt were breathed into that beautiful music. The audience sat spellbound. And no wonder, for such a collection of artists never played together before. Every city in Germany which could boast of a violin virtuoso sent him to play on this unique occasion, and not only Germany, but England, whose devotion to the great master is almost, if not quite, as great as that of his own country, sent the best two professors of the London Conservatory to represent her. Scattered among the older men were a few young ones, present pupils of Joachim, and about a dozen young girls in their light dresses, some of them with their hair still hanging in braids down their backs—German, English, American.

After the Joachim Variations, played by Petri, of Dresden, and after the overtures of Schumann and Mendelssohn, the “Genoveva” and “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the Brahms Symphony in C Minor, there were three stars on the Programme. “What did they mean?” Every one looked at every one else and nobody knew, but a surprise was evidently in store. Then a note from some one on the stage was carried to Joachim, and at the same moment the whole orchestra rose and began to croon softly the first measures of the Beethoven Concerto. Then all understood and cheered and clapped, but the master himself was of a different mind. He could be seen expostulating and gesticulating and shaking his head and sitting down, only to get up again to expostulate further. But the orchestra never stopped; the soft music went on insistently—it would not be denied. The people behind the boxes, standing on tables and chairs, leaned forward, not to lose a sight or sound. “They’re bringing his violin,” the whisper ran through the excited crowd; and, sure enough, there came three girls, a deputation of his favorite pupils, down the aisle toward him, holding out his wonderful Stradivarius.

When he took it in his hand the music suddenly ceased, and every drum and horn and fiddle began to pound and toot and shriek in a most enthusiastic “Tusch.” When he had taken his stand, the noble old man turned to the audience in a modest, deprecating way and said: “I haven’t practiced for three days and my hands ache. I have clapped so hard. There are many men in this orchestra who can play this better than I can, but if you really wish me to, I’ll do my best.” A pinfall could have been heard when he began. Every one sat breathless, expectant, and no one was disappointed. If another man in the world could have played better, no one in the audience would have conceded as much, for to a German a false note by Joachim, the “violin king,” is more inspired than the most perfect note of any other violinist living.

When he was through and had returned to his comfortable chair, they made him come back again and again and bow and bow, and were not satisfied until he took the baton in his hand and himself conducted the last number on the programme, the Bach Concerto in G Major. It was written for three violins, three violas, three ‘cellos and basso continuo, but was played by sixty-six violins, the number of the other instruments being increased in proportion. The whole orchestra remained standing throughout in honor of the director, and he deserved it, for Bach, in Joachim’s hands, has beauties which the most stubborn Philistine must feel.

The public had been requested to depart immediately after the close of the concert, that the room might be cleared for the banquet that was to be held there in honor of the hero of the evening, so the rank and file went early, leaving the more fortunate to enjoy the speeches and reminiscences of bygone times.

Signale für die Musikalische Welt, vol. 12, no. 14 (March, 1854): 113-14.

Zwanzigstes Abonnementconcert
im Saale des Gewandhauses zu Leipzig. Donnerstag, den 23 März 1854

Erster Theil: Introduction und erste Scene aus “Iphigenie in Tauris” von Gluck. Iphigenie: Fräulein Clara Brockhaus. — Concert für die Violine von Henri Litolff, vorgetragen von Herrn Concertmeister R. Dreyschock. — Hymne für eine Sopranstimme und Chor von Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy; die Solopartie gesungen von Fräulein Brockhaus. — Ouverture zu “Hamlet von Jos. Joachim, (Manuscript, unter Direction des Componisten .) — Notturno für das Waldhorn, componirt von Lorenz, vorgetragen von Herrn A. Lindner, Fürstl. Reuß. Hofmusikus. — Zweiter Theil: Symphonie pastorale (Nr. 6) von L. van Beethoven. (Die Ausführung der Chöre durch die Mitglieder der Singakademie, des Pauliner-Sängervereins in Verbindung mit dem Thomanerchore.)

Wenn man seine Gedanken mittheilen will, so ist die erste Forderung an dieselben, daß sie verständlich seien. Nur unter den deutschen Philosophen und Componisten sehen wir zuweilen Individuen auftreten, die jenes Verlangen nicht erfüllen können oder nicht erfüllen wollen. Das ist eine wahrhaft betrübende Erscheinung, um so betrübender als sie namentlich in der Neuzeit gerade an den begabtesten Geistern am öftersten bemerkt wird! Wir haben Herrn Joachim vor Kurzem ein außergewöhnliches Compositions-talent zugesprochen und wir bleiben auch nach der Aufführung seiner Ouverture zu Hamlet bei unserer Meinung. Neuheit und Eigenthümlichkeit der Gedanken hat sie durchaus. Allein was hilft es, wenn wir nach dem Anhören eines Tonstückes sagen können: das war sehr neu, sehr eigenthümlich, und hinzufügen müssen: aber durchaus unbegreiflich? Und durchaus unbegreiflich ist uns seine Ouverture geblieben. Wir haben eine sehr lange Reihe seltsamer Gedanken gehört, worunter welche wie leuchtende Blitze in düsterer Nacht kurz aufzuckten, aber wir vermochten sie weder als eine einheitliche Form zu fassen, noch irgend einen Bezug in ihnen auf Shakspeares Hamlet zu er-

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kennen. Herr Joachim wird gefunden haben, daß es dem ganzen Gewandhaus-Publikum so ergangen, und er weiß, daß das ganze Gewandhaus-Publikum ihn liebt. Kann oder will er seine Ideen in der Folge in eine begreifliche Form bringen und ihren Inhalt deutlicher ausdrücken, so steht ihm eine bedeutende Zukunft offen; auf dem Wege, den er mit diesem Werke betreten, geräth er in wüste Gegenden, wo keine Menschen wohnen, die Theil daran nehmen können. […]

The Oxford Magazine, vol. 25, no. 8, (December 5, 1906), p. 135.

MUSIC OF THE WEEK

THERE was the usual crowded and enthusiastic audience to welcome the Joachim Quartet at the Public Classical Concert on Thursday afternoon: the programme consisted of three string quartets, Mozart in D minor, Brahms in B flat, and Beethoven in C minor. Professor Wirth being still unable to play owing to eye-trouble, Herr Karl Klingler has been making his first visit to England, and, much younger than his famous colleagues though he is, he proves himself in every way worthy of the honour: the great viola passages in the Brahms quartet were played with quite superb breadth and insight, and throughout all the works his splendid tone and exceptional musicianship were very noticeable. Professors Halir and Hausmann were as wonderful as ever; and the passage of time leaves no trace on all the essential things in Dr. Joachim’s playing, nor is there any change in the extraordinary perfection of ensemble with which his colleagues reproduce every tinge of his moods. All his many long years of intimate love of the great music have resulted now in a style of extraordinarily ripe and mellow beauty: there is a lifetime of thought and reverence behind every note he plays, and at the age of seventy-five he can still teach us the last word in the art of interpretation. And yet there is nothing in the least degree stereotyped about his conceptions: absolutely faithful as they have always been, they are yet creative, and have varied, and still vary, to a considerable extent. On Thursday he was in a, on the whole, somewhat specially quiet and meditative vein: when we next hear him again, he might very possibly, in the same works, reveal to us different but equally great treasures from his inexhaustible store.

August Wilhelm Ambros: Review of Joachim’s Orchestration of Schubert’s Grand Duo, Op. posth. 140, D812. Wiener Zeitung, No. 260 (November 12, 1872): 1785. (Second concert of Hans von Bülow, November 7, 1872, in the small hall of the Vienna Musikverein).

Dwight’s Journal of Music, vol. 8, no. 10 (Boston, 8 December 1855), 78-79 .

Nov. 10.— What can I say? I am too excited, too much ‘carried away,’ and yet would fain record, that hereafter I may recall in some faint degree, the feelings with which I have heard CLARA SCHUMANN and JOACHIM again. [The concert took place in Berlin’s Singakademie on November 4, 1855 —RWE] Have I sneered at virtuosity? Never at such as this! Where and how to begin? The lauguage of the critics is like Sanscrit to me. I can neither use it myself nor understand it in others. I must—as I can with truth—comprehend all technical description in one phrase—there are no difficulties to them in their respective instruments. What are difficulties to other performers are so easily overcome, are played with such perfect calmness and rest, and glide away so unnoticed from their fingers that you cannot think to wonder at them. Let me go back a week.

It was a concert with orchestra in the Sing Akademie. Again, as last winter, I found it so beautiful in them, when all was ready, to come down to their places in front of the orchestra, so modestly and simply as if the audience was but a meeting of friends—with no display, no evident wish to be greeted with applause, no zany-like contortions of body, nor tossing of heads, but quiet and calm in their strength, without anxiety, without triumph. The overture to Byron’s “Manfred”, led by that excellent director STERN, and played by our new ‘Orchester Verein’, opened the concert. A powerful work, expressive of struggle and commotion of spirit. Schumann’s strong side, as it seems to me. Then followed his Concerto in A, minor, for piano-forte and orchestra, which she played. I was badly seated to get the proper effect of the work, but not to see the mastery with which the pianist ruled her instrument. What force and what delicacy! How wonderfully those handfuls of notes spoke out the deepest thoughts of Robert Schumann! Here a sigh, and there a tear—here the struggles of a giant, there the soothing voice of an angel. It is this wondrous power of entering into the very soul of the composer, which makes Clara Schumann what she is. Others can equal her in the technicalities of playing, but no woman approaches her in this thing. I met a lady a day or two after, who asked me how Madame Schumann appeared? “She seemed to me care-worn and sad; as well she may, poor woman! said I. “She appeared just so years ago, when she was a young girl, and came here to triumph over all,” said the lady. “She never had a childhood. Her father was determined to make a virtuoso of her, and the joyousness of youth she never knew. Even then her countenance showed her secret sorrow. Is not this the reason that she plays BEETHOVEN as no other living ? Does she not feel that great struggling spirit in his music? does it not sympathize with her, and share every trouble, and soothe, and calm and speak peace? When she plays his music, you think no more of composer and performer than you do of SHAKSPEARE when reading his dramas. On this evening she only played some variations by the great master, in C minor. No mere finger-work, but full of feeling and beauty.

Joachim’s first piece was a sonata for the violin solo, by BACH. I had heard it a day or two before, when he played it to an audience of two, curled up upon the lounge; and as he now stood up before the large audience, there was no change in his demeanor, no variation in his manner of playing; all was just as simple and unaffected as before, and what is the secret of this, but his love for the music ? And truly I begin to have some faint conception of that man Bach’s greatness. What power, depth and quaint beauty in this work! The first movement has a grand, sweeping power, producing an effect that one could hardly expect from the instrument. Then follows a quaint fugue, on four subjects, I think; but can that be possible? I heard it twice and hardly dare say it; and then an Adagio, full of soul, and a finale, capricious and wild, and full of technical difficulties hardly to be imagined. One never would imagine it from the manner of Joachim. RELLSTAB says of the performance: “The poet says:

‘In him have I

The model of a perfect man beheld.’

“We can quote these words in relation to this artist, in whom we honor a model of perfect performance. Not the storm of applause at the close, but the breathless stillness during the piece praised him the most. In the solution of his problem not only did no note of the smallest importance fail him, but no stroke of power, no spark of fire, no breath of tenderness; it was the most perfect Daguerreotype of the work.”

But it was in the last piece that I felt his mighty power to the fullest extent This was that grand work of Beethoven’s ripest years, the Concerto for violin and orchestra, op. 61, in D. I had heard it at a concert of the Orchester-Verein not long before, the solo by Concert-master LAUB, from Vienna. He had played it with distinguished skill and it had not failed of making its due impression. But now! Still as the tomb was that house, the audience being prepared for the noble orchestral opening by the delicate variations before mentioned, which immediately preceded it. This work was written at that period when Beethoven’s genius proved in the fourth Symphony, that as a mere artist, a simple writer of music, he was behind none. So in this work the deep sorrow of the later period does not appear. The giant is there in the Allegro, but a giant rejoicing in his strength. What tenderness, what unheard-of depths of human feeling in the Larghetto! ” You need not be ashamed of your wet eyes,” said Miss G. to me, “there are many others here in the same state.”

If Joachim would only put on a few artist airs, one could think of him; as it is, the stream of music carries us along with it and the very heart strings are vibrating to every tone of that marvellous instrument. If he would not be so calm and utterly buried in his own feelings, there would be some escape. But no. He seizes upon you by his very personal appearance, and after the first tones all escape from his enchantment is impossible. And so the Larghetto ended and the people waked from their trance—the magic bonds were loosed. The deepest feelings had been excited. The British Spy wondered how the audience of the blind preacher could be brought down from the pitch of excitement to which his eloquence had raised them. Had any one but Beethoven written that Larghetto, or had any other than Joachim played the Rondo (Finale), I should have feared like the British Spy. But when did Beethoven ever fail in placing just exactly the right thing after one of his heart-reaching, soul-thrilling Andantes or Adagios? With what abounding life and joyousness did the Rondo spring from beneath Joachim’s bow! His own figure, calm as it was, seemed to feel in every nerve the change. The orchestra was inspired to a man, and the audience were electrified. That the “gloomy Beethoven!” This last movement is the very champaigne of music; Joachim poured it out to us, until we were “like Bacchus, crowned and drunken!”

A. W. T.

Hans von Bülow reviewed this concert in the Berliner Feuerspritze:

The hall of the Sing-Akademie was brilliantly reinaugurated by means of the concert given by Frau Schumann and Herr Joseph Joachim, and since Franz Liszt such beautiful music has not been heard in this room. This evening will remain unforgotten and unique in the memories of those who partook of this artistic pleasure, which has filled all with lasting enthusiasm. It was not Joachim who yesterday played Beethoven and Bach, Beethoven himself played!

That was not an interpretation of the highest genius, it was a revelation. Even the most incredulous must believe in miracles, a similar transubstantiation has never been. Never has a work of art been brought before the mind’s eyes e in such life and spirit, nor has the immortality of genius before appeared so lustrous and sublime in its truest reality. One wished to listen on one’s knees! Anyway  description of the impression which Beethoven’s tenth symphony [i.e. the Violin Concerto —RWE]  made yesterday would be a desecration.

Frau Schumann surpassed herself in her rendering of Robert Schumann’s pianoforte concerto. If all the compositions of the leading modern composers of instrumental music were interpreted with such wonderful perfection, the whole conception so rhythmic and with such subtlety of detail, they would soon make headway even with the most reserved and opposing public. Schumann’s pianoforte concerto won the sympathy of all, through the great pianist, who poured her whole soul into her interpretation of it. In addition, we may  also mention that the piano solo of this orchestral piece cannot be called otherwise than a ‘grateful’ part. But how particularly grateful it is for this artist!

Andreas Moser, Joseph Joachim: A Biography (1831-1899), tr. Lilla Durahm, London: Philip Wellby, 1901, pp. 154-155.

Durch das gestern abend stattgehabte Konzert von Frau Clara Schumann und Herrn Joseph Joachim erfuhr der Saal der Singakademie eine überaus glänzende Rehabilitation. Seit Franz Liszt ist in deisen Räumen nie so schöne Musik gehört worden. Dieser Abend wird unvergeßlich und einzig bleiben in der Erinnerung der Teilnehmer an diesem Kunstgenuß, der jeden mit nachwirkender Begeisterung erfüllt hat. Nicht Joachim hat gestern Beethoven und Bach gespielt, Beethoven selbst hat gespielt!

Das war keine Verdolmetschung des höchsten Genius, es war eine Offenbarung. Auch der Ungläublgste muå an Wunder glauben; eine ähnliche Transsubstantiation ist noch nicht geschehen. Nie ist ein Kunstwerk so lebendig und verklärt vor das innere Auge geführt worden, nie die Unsterblichkeit des Genius so leuchtend und erhaben in die wirklichste Wirklichkeit getreten. Auf den Knien hätte man zuhören mögen! Jede Schilderung des Eiondruckes, den Beethoven’s zehnte Symphonie gestern erregt hat, wäre eine Entweihung.

Frau Dr. Schumann übertraf sich selbst in dem Vortrage von Robert Schumanns Klavierkonzert. Wenn die Komposition des hervorragendsten modernen Instrumentalkomponisten mit solch wunderbarer Vollendung, mit so schwunghafter Totalauffassung und so ausgefeilter Nuancierung aller Einzelheiten interpretiert werden, so brechen sie sich auch bei dem widerstrebendsten, zurück-

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haltendsten Publikum Bahn. Schumanns Klavierkonzert hat aller Sympathien errungen durch die große Meisterin, die den ihr verwandten Geist so unvergleichlich zur Mitteilung gebracht hat. Hierbei geben wir noch zu bedenken, daß die Klavierpartie dieses Orchesterstückes nichts weniger als eine ‘dankbare’ zu nennen ist. Wie äußerst dankbar bewährte sich dieselbe aber für die Künstlerin!

Andreas Moser, Joseph Joachim. Ein Lebensbild, vol. 1, Berlin: Verlag der Deutschen Brahms-Gesellschaft, 1908, pp. 216=217

Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, vol. 35, no. 26 (December 26, 1851): 285-286.

Wir gehen einstweilen zu einem erfreulichen Gegenstande über, dem vorzüglichen Kunstgenuß, welcher uns durch eine Reihe seit zwei Jahren entbehrter Quartettabende geboten wurde. Der seltene Verein von vier, jedes in seiner Art, ausgezeichneten Talenten, unterstützt von einem auf den belebenden Einfluß unseres nicht genug zu schätzenden Joachim gegründeten, seit lange im Privatkreise sorgsam gepflegten und polirten Ensemble, berecthigte uns freilich auch zu Erwartungen ungewöhnlicher Art.

Daß Joachim einer der ersten lebenden Geiger ist, daß sein voller und dabei so durchsichtiger in Ton, seine meisterhafte Technik, welche seit vielen Jahren schon keine Schwierigkeiten mehr kennt, seine echt künstlerische und geniale Auffassung der verschiedensten Tonsetzer ihn wahrscheinlich noch höheren Ausprüchen berechtigen, ist bekannt; Coßmann’s Spiel zeichnet sich vor dem aller anderen Violoncellisten dadurch aus, daß er seine große Virtuosität, seinen geschmackvollen, eleganten Vortrag nie zu der wahren Kunst fremden Nebenzwecken mißbraucht, daß er in der Beherrschung des Instrumentes z. B. Rietz, an künstlerischem Geiste Servais weit übertrifft. H. Stöhr ist als Violinspieler und Componist leider nicht so allgemein bekannt, als er es verdient. Eine gewisse

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unerklärliche Befangenheit beim Solovortrag — ähnlich der, an welcher Henselt litt, — hat ihn verhindert, seine vorzüglichen Eigenschaften vor der größeren Oeffentlichkeit zur Geltung zu bringen; in den Stücken mit Clavierbegleitung, wo er erste Geige spielte, verschaffen sie sich anerkennende Bewunderung. Hr. Stör ist jetzt an des pensionirten Eberwein Stelle Musikdirector geworden. In allen Gebieten des Orchesters zu Hause, mit frischem, regem Eifer, edlem künstlerischem Streben begabt, wie er ist, hat er uns in seiner Antrittsdirection der “Preziosa” zu erfreulichen Hoffnungen berechtigt. Hr. Walbrül (Bratsche) ist ebenfalls ein tüchtiger Künstler, der durch seine vielseitigen Talente mehr als einen Platz ausfüllt. Im Orchester fungiert er bei der Violine und bei den neueren Opern, z. B. den Wagner’schen, als Baßclarinettist. Er leistet das Rühmlichste in allen diesen Fächern; in dem letzteren namentlich sind wir ihm nicht am wenigsten Dank schuldig, da in mehreren auf ihr Orchester sehr eingebildeten Städten noch heute das unedle Fagott die herrliche Baßclarinette ersetzn muß. — Rechnet man zu diesem Ensemble noch die geistige Mitwirkung Franz Liszts, die wir auf die Gefahr hin hierorts der Indiscretion beschuldigt zu werden, nicht umhin können zu erwähnen, da die hohe Intelligenz des Meisters dem Ganzen eine Feinheit der Nüancirung verleiht, welche, wenn auch der Laie von ihrer Qualität sich keine bestimmte Rechenschaft geben kann, doch so wichtig für die Totalwirkung ist, so wird man uns nicht der Uebertreibung anklagen, wenn wir sagen, daß die Weimar’schen diesjährigen Quartettabende etwas Exceptionelles bieten, was nicht leicht oder vielmehr gar nicht anderwärts gefunden werden dürfte. Die vortreffliche Auswahl des Programmes geht Hand in Hand mit der vollendeten Ausführung. Die erste Soirée (18 Nov.) brachte uns mit schuldiger Rücksicht auf das Herkommen Quartett von Haydn, B=Dur, das gesangreiche G=Moll Quartett von Mozart und das F=Dur Quartett von Beethoven (Op. 59, Nr. 1). Am 9ten December hörten wir eine treffliche Zusammenstellung moderner Meisterwerke: das Schubert’sche D=Moll Quartet, das Schumann’sche Clavierquintett in Es=Dur — der Clavierpart wurde von Hrn. V. Bülow, Schüler Liszt’s, wie es schien mit Liebe zur Sache und der Aufgabe gewachsenen Kräften ausgeführt — und das Octett von Mendelssohn. Der Abend des 16ten December brachte Gade’s G=Moll Quintett, ein recht schönes, aber etwas nordisch=monotones Werk, Mendelssohn’s G=Moll Trio von dem jungen trefflichen Clavierspieler Winterberger, der, seitdem er nach Weimar in Liszt’s Schule gekommen ist, ein ausgezeichneter Pianist zu werden verspricht, und Beethoven’s F=Moll Quartett, Op. 95 diese gedrängte Emanation des herrlichen Genius aus einem Gusse. Für den 30sten Decbr., die letzte Soirée, stehen uns drei Beethoven’sche Quartette aus seinen verschiedenen Schöpfungsperioden bevor, das A=Dur Quartett (Op. 18) das sogenannte Harfenquartett aus Es=Dur (Op. 74) und das große Eis=Moll Quartett (Op. 131). Das für die Geschmacksläuterung des Publikums so wohlthätige Werk findet allgemeinen Anklang, ungeachtet der ziemlich hohen aber angemessenen Eintrittspreise. Daß dies der Fall, haben wir dem Kunstsinn des Hofes, d. h. der großherzoglichen Familie zu danken, deren sämmtliche Glieder bis jetzt jedes Mal vom ersten bis letzten Tone mit wahrer Andacht zugehört haben, eine so seltene Erscheinung, daß wir auch keinen Anstand nehmen, — honny soit qui mal y pense — die Achtung auszusprechen, welche und diese anspruchslose Mäcenasschaft einflößt, in einer Zeit, wo das Gedeihen der Kunst auf naturwüchsigem Wege aus dem Volke heraus, leider zu den Unmöglichkeiten gehört.

Croydon Advertiser and East Surrey Reporter (Saturday, 10 March 10, 1888), p. 7.